Welcome

Welcome to my blog! I come here to share my thoughts and feelings about stumbling through life and motherhood with the twin Sheets (Colin and Sofia), my oldest daughter (Olivia) and my best friend and partner in parenting crime, Vincent.

Friday, October 12, 2012

Five Minute Friday--Race

Go!

Race--meaning one's ethnic background--will always be of importance to me.  You see, my husband is black.  I am white.  Our children are a beautiful blend of the both of us.  Of course I think that.  I am a mother.

But how will society treat my children?  Will they grow up knowing they are loved and accepted by others for who THEY are and NOT who their parents are?  This will always be my fear.  It was my fear before I even had children with my husband.  I know the best thing I can do is remind them every day that they are children of God FIRST.  And that they were loved and accepted by Him before they were even born.  God will always be for them.  He loves them for who they are--because they are our children.  Wonderful, sweet kids.  I hope everyone takes the time to get to know them.

Stop!


Here's the scoop on Five Minute Friday from Lisa Jo herself:

Five Minute Friday


We write for five minutes flat. All on the same prompt that I post here at 1 minute past midnight EST ever Friday. And we connect on Twitter with the hashtag#FiveMinuteFriday
No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation.
Unscripted. Unedited. Real.
It started because I’d been thinking about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. And I figured, why not take 5 minutes and see what comes out: not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing.
So now on Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write without worrying if it’s just right gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Pneumonia

Well, for the last 5 days pneumonia has been ruling my life.  And it's ruled with an iron fist.  Have you ever had it?  First timer right here.  And it's been pretty bad.  I started feeling bad on Sunday afternoon.  I was really, really tired.  But it went beyond just being physically overworked.  It was taking real effort to move.  I've had that feeling before and it's always come just before my body succumbs to some illness that robs me of me for a while.  Since this icky feeling wasn't new to me, I was willing to bet something was about to hit.  I just didn't know it was gonna be a sucker punch to the gut--or in this case, to the chest.

On Monday morning, I was supposed to take the kids to a MOPS play date at a local pumpkin farm.  We were supposed to be there at 9am--early for those of us with 3 kids under the age of 5.  After a very fitful night's sleep, I tried to get out of bed that morning and each limb of body felt like it weighed 2 tons and my entire lower body ached.  I managed to drag myself into the shower and actually put a little make up on.  But I couldn't overcome the weakness that I felt.  I went upstairs to get the kids out of bed and each step up those stairs was brutal.  I had to hold on to the rail as if I was an elderly woman.  My legs hurt as if I was running a 5K, not climbing a simple flight of stairs (yes, for ME running a 5K invokes pain.  Stop laughing).  And by the time I got to the top of the stairs, my body felt like Jell-O--all wobbly and unsteady.  But I managed to get everyone downstairs without passing out even thought I felt like I was going to.

My next thought was that eating breakfast would be the solution and give me that much-needed energy boost.  Luckily Vincent had the day off from work it being Columbus Day and all (thank you, banker's holidays).  He was helping feed the kids breakfast while I trudged around the kitchen, my fuzzy slippers scratching across the tile floor because I couldn't muster up the energy to actually pick up my feet.  I made my customary breakfast of a protein shake and drank that down quickly hoping I'd instantly perk up.  Nope.  I was just as drained.  At that point, the thought of having to dig down deep and somehow find the energy to load the kids into the car, much less chase them around a farm for a couple of hours, was just too much.  The weakness was so debilitating, I swear I could literally hear my body tell me I AM NOT DOING THAT TODAY SO JUST FORGET IT!   So I bailed on the play date and immediately went back to bed.  I slept for a couple of hours.  I woke up feeling just as exhausted.  I knew something bad was happening.  I took my temperature and sure enough, I had a fever.  My first thought was THE FLU!  EEEK!  The dreaded flu!  I figured that's all it could be since my only symptoms were fatigue, fever and muscle aches...well, and an occasional cough here and there but I just kind of blew that off.  And I was kicking myself for having not already gotten my annual flu shot.  Knowing I was going to need Tamiflu, stat, I made an appointment at one of those out-patient treatment centers, AKA "Doc-in-the-box" or as we used to call the on-campus clinic at Baylor back in the day, "The Quack Shack", since it was after hours and my doctor's office was already closed.

Since I had already self-diagnosed in my mind, I had The Quack Shack test me for the flu.  Negative.  What the ???  Then what else could it be??  I had joked around earlier that day that I probably had West Nile.  Would I be sorry for that now??  Had I jinxed myself???  The doctor suggested I do blood work and take a chest X ray since I had mentioned my cough to him--as an afterthought, of course.  I reluctantly agreed thinking this was going to be a waste of my precious time.  So I got zapped and pricked.  And I waited.

Diagnosis:  PNEUMONIA.

What?!  I was barely coughing!  Aren't you supposed to hack your lungs out with that illness?  But the doctor explained there were some spots on my lungs in the Xray and the results of my blood work suggested a bacterial infection but that we had probably caught it early.  Nice.  So two antibiotic prescriptions later I'm home in bed feeling like...well, someone who had pneumonia, which is to say really crappy.  But still not really coughing.  Well that changed in less than 24 hours.  By the next morning I had all the typical symptoms:  fatigue, chest tightness, fever and COUGH.  I felt awful!  Now luckily for me, my prince-of-a-husband stayed home to take care of the kids while I hacked and coughed and moaned and groaned.  No, I'm not a very good patient.  And despite that fact which is no doubt unpleasant for him, he stayed home yesterday as well!  What a good man!

So that's been my life for the last 5 days.  I'm fever free today for the first time since Monday.  Maybe I'm starting to turn a corner now.  I hope.  And while I had it bad, I haven't had it as bad as some and thank God I never had to go to the hospital as I understand some do when it gets out of control.  I still feel pretty tired and achy today but I went ahead and sent Vincent on to work.  I think he was going crazy here with our 3 ring circus.

Needless to say I haven't felt much like blogging, writing, reading, meditating--basically I haven't felt like participating in life this week.  I mean, you know you're in a bad way when washing your hair is the biggest feat you accomplish in a day.  But having the down time gave me a chance to think about some of the things I eventually do want to write about on my blog.  So I got out a notebook and started to jot down ideas and flesh them out a bit.  We'll see what comes out of it.


Friday, October 5, 2012

Five Minute Friday--Welcome

Go!

Welcome means to accept somebody into your life, your home, etc with open arms.  I grew up as a child who only went to church on major holidays.  I called myself a Christian but wasn't a very faithful believer.  I went to a very large, very affluent church as a child and young adult.  Being from a single-parent household, we never had a lot so I never felt like I fit in at my church.  My insecurities kept me from feeling welcome in the house of God.  As a newly married woman, church was never high on priority list.  Then my children came along and that changed.  My family and I found a church in the town where we live and we love it.  I have always felt a sense of belonging there.  Like I was finally welcome.  What always strikes me as wonderful is that when we take communion every Sunday, our pastor says everyone is welcome at God's table.  And I know he's talking to me.  God wants to welcome me to the feast.  And for that, I am truly thankful.

Stop!

Here's the scoop on Five Minute Friday from Lisa Jo herself:

Five Minute Friday


We write for five minutes flat. All on the same prompt that I post here at 1 minute past midnight EST ever Friday. And we connect on Twitter with the hashtag#FiveMinuteFriday
No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font, or punctuation.
Unscripted. Unedited. Real.
It started because I’d been thinking about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. And I figured, why not take 5 minutes and see what comes out: not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing.
So now on Fridays a group of people who love to throw caution to the wind and just write without worrying if it’s just right gather to share what five minutes buys them. Just five minutes.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Olivia, my tiny dancer

Miss Olivia started ballet/tap combo class a couple of weeks ago. This is her second year at the same studio. Her teachers tell me she's an excellent student--always listening and always tries her best!
Olivia and her teacher, Ms. Arrica
Ready for class
Butterfly day
I hope I can eventually figure out how to post video clips on here because I have some cute ones of her doing some ballet and tap combinations and practicing her leaps.

I really hope Olivia grows to love dance as much as I did (and still do).  I didn't get involved in dance until I was 15 years old--a geriatric in terms of dancing.  So I really only learned the basics and never advanced any further.  And my passion for it waaaay exceeded my abilities.  I knew it, too.  I danced with girls that were light years ahead of me in terms of technique.  But I still danced because I loved it so much.  My dream still to this day is to be a dancer/performer on Broadway.  But that ship sailed many, many, MANY moons ago, not that I ever had a real shot at it in the first place.  

Now my dream is modified.  I would love to see Olivia become the dancer I never could be.  I'm so glad we're able to put her in lessons now when she's still a child.  I hope that her teachers can encourage her, help her develop her talent and foster in her that love of dance that still lives in my heart.  But as much as I'd like to see her fulfill my dream (and yes, I know it's MY dream), I know my job as a parent is to help her discover her own dreams and realize them.  And that's exactly what I intend to do.  God has a purpose for her in this world--one that is unique to her.  And my ULTIMATE dream for her is that through God, she discovers what that purpose is and she lives for it, breathes it and owns it every day of her life.  What a joy that will be!  And if it just happens to be dance, then even better!  :)

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Conflicted

I just realized today that my 20 year HS reunion is in 9 months.  And I'm really having trouble making sense of how I feel about this.  I find it hard not to immediately think of the standard cliches dealing with aging and the passing of time.  I really hate to go there in my writing but I really can't think of any other way to articulate how I feel.  In some ways, 20 years has truly flown by.  Some of my memories from high school are so vivid, it's as if they happened yesterday and while I'm still young at heart, I have to remind myself that I'm not as young as I think (or feel) I am anymore.  But in other ways, so much has happened to me in these 20 years that thinking about it all overwhelms me and makes me tired.  Like I've done a lifetime's-worth of living in 20 years.  And I can't decide if being 20 years older is a good thing or not.  I mean, it's certainly better than the alternative, but aren't we all supposed to want to be 'forever young' as the song suggests?

So does this mean I'm on the brink of a mid-life crisis?  I don't know.  Father Time is messing with me and surely he's getting a chuckle out of it at my expense.

All I really know is that I'm conflicted.  Conflicted not only about how I feel about being out of high school for 20 years, but also about what I've done with that time I was given.  What have I accomplished?  Has it really meant anything to me and to others?  If I died tomorrow, what would people say about me and my life?  I feel like I've done okay for myself but according to whom?  What standards do I use to evaluate these things?  I think what stands out the most as I reflect on this is that practically every decision I have ever made in my life has been based on the reliance of my own "wisdom".  I hardly ever went to God in prayer about anything.  I never prayed about what college I should attend, what major I should choose, if I should go to graduate school or not, and for 13 long years, I didn't pray about the awful, bitter feelings I had about the one and only real job I ever had.  I never sought His guidance and I think that's pretty significant (and not in a good way).  I've just been kind of muddling through life living off the fruits of dumb luck which incidentally aren't that great.  This is not how I want to live the next 20 years of my life.  I want more.  I want authentic purpose--the kind that I believe only God can help me find--so that perhaps I can go to my 40 year reunion with amazing stories to share!